


Lost

by aimeejessica



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M, i rushed this, idk how good its even gonna be, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimeejessica/pseuds/aimeejessica
Summary: Based off a prompt I received from Levinson-Mannion on tumblr."Dr Turner does not show up at the surgery and he is not at home (Tim is at Granny Parker’s) everyone is naturally worried- none more so then Sister Bernadette"
Relationships: Bernadette | Shelagh Turner & Patrick Turner, Bernadette | Shelagh Turner/Patrick Turner
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [levinson_mannion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/levinson_mannion/gifts).



There was a bustle in the prep room as the Nun’s finished packing their worn, leather bags ready to commence their working day. Sister Bernadette, ever thorough with her job, took mental inventory for a third time before closing her bag and awaiting her Head Sister’s daily schedule.

After the brief commotion of Nurse Lee and Nurse Franklin rushing into the prep room with mere minutes to spare, Sister Julienne began delegating the roster as the two nurses attended to their own bags.

Sister Evangelina sent a glare to the two nurses as the clattering of instruments and glass echoed in the small room. “Ladies, your ineptitude for getting yourselves organised in a timely manner should be commended.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Sister Julienne ignored the remark, continuing as she should. Sister Bernadette took a quick glance around the room to quickly assess how much longer the nurses would be, before returning her attention back to Sister Julienne.

“Nurse Franklin, you’ll be taking the district rounds today,” decided the senior Nun, handing over a paper with the patients listed. This received an eye roll from the blonde nurse, but she tucked it away in her bag, clasping it shut and leaving the room.

“Nurse Lee, I believe you have a few women who are in need of visitation today. I am certain you don’t need a list from me to tell you where to go,” Sister Julienne continued.

“Of course,” Nurse Lee almost curtseyed at the Nun, instead, nodded her head and departed.

“Sister Evangelina, you will be joining myself. I received a telephone call around half an hour ago from Mister Philp’s. He’s informed us his wife’s waters have broken, however, being her seventh child, I’d like you to assist.” With a curt nod, the ever-efficient Sister Evangelina was off. “And Sister Bernadette, with myself out, I require you to stay here on call. Nurse Miller was called out in the wee hours this morning.”

“Yes, Sister,” the youngest nun replied in her quiet, Scottish lilt. She bade farewell to her Sister’s, heading quickly to the living room to pass the time doing handi-crafts.

* * *

Nurse Miller had returned to Nonnatus House only a mere hour after the day had commenced, helping herself to a cup of tea and joining Sister Bernadette in the living room. She watched as the Nun clumsily crocheted blanket squares, listening as she muttered under her breath the stitches she would need to make.

“You have the patience of a Saint to be able to do that,” the nurse commented after a long time watching.

The Nun, never shifting her eyes from the work in her hands, smiled. “I struggle,” she admitted, finally finishing her row and brining her eyes to the nurse. “I must say crochet is not a strength of mine, I’d much prefer sewing,”

“Well, your skills are more than mine. I can’t crochet at all –“

The conversation was cut short as the telephone rang throughout the empty convent. Sister Bernadette thanked the Lord that He had let her finish her row, for she most certainly would have lost her place otherwise, and rose to answer.

“Nonnatus House, midwife speaking,” she answered professionally. As she received information, her face lost its usual young innocence, screwing up in confusion. Hanging the telephone back on the receiver, she made her way back into the living room.

Nurse Miller watched as the Nun came back into view, curiosity plastered over her face. “Whose husband was that?”

Sister Bernadette shook her head, remaining standing in the doorway. “It was Sister Evangelina,” Nurse Miller’s face took the same expression as the Nun had as she had received the news. “There’s been a complication with the Philp’s birth and they require Doctor Turner,” she paused for a moment, thinking about the situation hard. “Only problem is, no one can get a hold of him,”

“Have they tried the surgery?”

“Yes,” the Nun fidgeted with the ring on her right hand. “They’ve tried the surgery, his home, Timothy’s school,”

“Isn’t Timothy away with his grandmother?” Nurse Miller questioned. “Perhaps Doctor Turner has gone away with his son?”

Sister Bernadette shook her head again. “He would have organised a locum, you know how he feels about his work.” Panic was coursing through the woman at the thought of Doctor Turner missing; only days ago had she allowed herself to enjoy the company of the man in question. She had allowed herself to gaze into his eyes, to let the feelings she felt rise to the surface for him to catch a glimpse of. She had also silently hope that in the passing of spirit lamps, that his fingers might have brushed hers. “Would you mind manning the phone for me, I’m going to head out to try to find him,”

“Of course,” Nurse Miller agreed, sensing the worry that was flowing off her colleague.

“Thank you,” with that, she turned quick on her heel and made her way out in search of the Doctor.

* * *

Sister Bernadette had made quick work climbing on her bicycle, peddling her hardest throughout Poplar. She was a woman on a mission; tunnel vision blocked out any reasonable thought or action causing her to nearly collided into an oncoming lorry that she hadn’t seen.

With adrenaline pumping through the woman’s body, she took herself first to the surgery and then to Doctor Turner’s flat, hoping he was indeed at one of those places and that the phone lines were out. Alas, he was not.

Taking a minute to catch her breath at his front door, she sifted through places he may have mentioned in the past. An idea formed in her head and as soon as her breath was regained, she headed down familiar roads, ensuring to take the route that would take her past the graveyard which homed his late wife and eventually lead her to the Parish Hall.

Throwing herself off the bicycle, she leaned it haphazardly against the wall. As she ran to the doors of the Hall, she didn’t flinch when she heard the bicycle clatter to the ground behind her. Pushing the doors open and allowing herself access, she raced to the middle of the hall. Her eyes scanned the familiar room, catching a glance of someone in the kitchen.

“Doctor Turner!” she exclaimed, pushing through the plastic flaps that segregated the kitchen from the hall.

He looked dishevelled, leaning against the bench, head hung low over the sink. At her voice he jolted, startled that someone had found him. He didn’t raise his head or turn to look at her, her accented voice giving her away. “Sister Bernadette,”

She approached him cautiously, placing a hand on his forearm. “We’ve been looking for you,” her voice betrayed any professionalism she was trying to convey. “We tried phoning, so I’ve been looking all over Poplar for you.” She paused as he finally turned to look at her, her hand never releasing the place on his arm. “Is everything alright?”

He smiled at her weakly, covering her hand with his own causing her heart to palpitate uncontrollably. “It is now,”

**Author's Note:**

> I rushed this. I guess its everything that went through my head at such a rapid pace.


End file.
